


The Fifth and Sixth Arrows

by kijikun



Series: A Quiver of Arrows [3]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 02, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrea knows she's prone to making bad decisions. She's just not sure why Daryl keeps going along with her - it can't just be for the arrows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fifth Arrow

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: fleete

Andrea isn’t sure what wakes her. The camp is quiet with Rick on watch. She sees Daryl from the opening of her tent. He’s sitting on a log by the dying fire. Slipping on her shoes and slinging her bag across her shoulders, she walks across and sits down by his feet. He nods at her and goes back to whatever he’s doing with his hands. It looks like he’s weaving leather cord together with—

Is that rope or grass?

In any case, it’s late, and she’s kind of worried he’s still awake. Doesn’t he have the next watch after Rick? Hasn’t Daryl been up since dawn?

She’d knows because he’d dragged her into the woods to ‘teach her to hunt’. She’s not sure if he took her because he thought she’d be able to catch on, because he wanted her company, or because he knew Andrea might brain Lori if she had to do any more laundry. It’s a wonder, though, that they caught anything. But Daryl bagged a rabbit, and they’d even found some type of berry Daryl called “dewberries”.

Andrea still remembers the rush of warmth she got when Daryl smiled at her and called her his good luck charm.

“Do you want me to take watch for you?” she asks, softly. She’s gotten a few hours sleep and that’s more than it looks like he’s gotten.

Daryl shakes his head. “Naw, I got it.”

Andrea nods. She could argue it with him, but it would just be for the sake of arguing. Man’s stubborner than all her Law Professors put together. She leans a little closer, mostly to see what exactly he’s doing.

“What are you making?” she asks. Her arm brushes against his leg as she shifts.

Daryl’s hands still, but she doesn’t lean away. “Nothing ‘portant,” he says and shoves the leather and rope into his pocket.

She fights to keep a frown off her face. She figured it was just something for hunting or his crossbow, but if he’s hiding it…

Andrea turns her face back towards the fire. “Something for Carol?” she asks, wondering why she feels a stab of jealousy at that thought.

Daryl makes a very soft sound, one she’s not sure how to place. “Know how to do more than rod fishin’?”

“I’ve done some net fishing, but that was years ago,” she tells him. She lets the change of subject go without comment. She’s not sure she wants to know about him and Carol. Not the way just thinking about it makes her insides twist.

“Ever do any spear fishing?” he asks. He stretches out one leg, his boot tapping against her shoe. “We need to get you better shoes, girl.”

Andrea rolls her eyes at the shoe comment. It’s not like she packed for zombies or learning to hunt in the Georgia woods. “No, but I’m sure I could learn. Why?”

He taps his boot against her shoe again. “Surprised the soles of those things haven’t just ripped right off,” he says as if he’s not even talking to her. Then he shakes his head and looks down at her. “Saw some fish in the river.”

She shakes her head. “If I’m going to fish, I might as well ask Maggie if I can fish off the dock. I’ve got some fishing gear.”

Daryl’s lips curve up into the second real smile she’s seen from him that day. “Was wondering what you hauled out of that old SUV on the highway.” His smile fades as quick as it came. “You sure you’re up to it, Andrea?”

Andrea’s furious for a split second until she really looks at him. His eyes have that same look from when he asked if she still felt like dying. She gets it. “I have to face it at some point or another.”

“But it don’t have to be now,” Daryl tells her. “You don’t got to push yourself.”

She looks at his boot resting against her sneaker. He’s right, she does need better shoes. Maybe she’ll be able to scavenge some hiking boots or something soon. She looks at where there’s a hole in the knee of his pants—and she wouldn’t know how to fix it without an iron-on patch kit.

She swallows hard.

“I think I do need to push,” she finally says. “I won’t become a liability to the group.”

Daryl’s chuckle is rough but there’s warmth to it. “That, angel face, isn’t something you’re in danger of becoming.”

She’s so blindsided by the compliment, that it takes what he calls her a second to settle in.  
“Angel face?” She peers up at him.

Daryl’s face and ears go red, and he looks sharply away from her. He shrugs his shoulders.

Andrea knows she should let it go. She should go to bed. She should leave things be before she ruins something.

Fuck, but she’s terrible at taking her own advice.

She pulls the arrow she’d stashed in her bag before dinner. Tapping his leg with it, she looks up at him through her eyelashes.

“Trade you for another arrow?” she asks softly.

Daryl looks at the arrow, his ears still slightly red, then at her before darting back to the arrow. “What you want this time?”

“Kiss me,” she says. This could ruin everything but she keeps going, throwing herself into another bad decision. _Not as bad as the one with Shane,_ she thinks. “One kiss, for one arrow.”

He doesn’t say anything. He barely moves. Hell, he doesn’t even look at her.

She’s about to try to laugh it off. To say something like, _Ha, ha, that’s for the blow job crack, Dixon,_ but she doesn’t get a chance.

Daryl’s eyes suddenly meet hers, and they’re wild, something almost out of control in those blue depths. His fingers sink into her hair, twisting around her loose pony tail, and almost force her head back. Daryl’s mouth crashes against hers.

It’s rough and wet, and his teeth scrape against her lips. Her little half gasp lets him push his tongue into her mouth. There’s nothing soft or sweet or tender about it, and, _God_ , but it’s hot.

And it’s over the moment she slides her tongue against his and her hand settles on his thigh. He makes a half-broken moan and pulls back like he’s been burned.

“Need to go relieve Rick from watch,” he says, his voice rougher than normal. He takes the arrow from her fingers. He won’t look at her.

Daryl doesn’t wait for her answer before he bolts.

Andrea touches her fingers to her lips. They feel slightly bruised and she wonders if anyone will be able to tell in the morning.

She wonders if Daryl will look at her in the morning.


	2. The Sixth Arrow

Andrea is shaking.

Daryl thinks he sees it only because he’s looking for it. He sees it in her hands as she clutches Dale’s hand tightly. Carol is trying to pry Andrea away with little success.

Daryl doesn’t like the shocked, broken look in Andrea’s eyes, and he’s not sure Carol’s the right person to handle her. He glances at Rick.

The lawman seems to know what Daryl’s thinking, even though Daryl himself doesn’t. He claps Daryl on the shoulder and takes his gun back. “We’ll take care of Dale, you go take care of her,” Rick says softly. “And thank you.”

Daryl nods, torn between embarrassment, confusion, and uneasiness. He moves towards Andrea, and he’s aware of Shane’s glare. Though if Shane thinks Daryl’s letting him alone with Andrea like this, the man’s got another thing coming.

“I got her,” he tells Carol.

Carol bites her bottom lip but nods. She starts to speak, then hesitates for a moment. “Be careful with her,” she says so softly Daryl barely hears her.

He doesn’t want to think about what she means. He bends down and covers Andrea’s wrists with his hands.

Andrea looks up at him, and it’s the Andrea from the night in the woods. The pale, scared slip of a woman trying to hold the pieces of herself together and failing. Daryl wants the playful Andrea. The Andrea that snips and smiles at him. He wants the Andrea he kissed.

“C’mon,” he tells her as gently as he’s able. It still comes out rough.

She lets go of Dale’s lifeless hand, though, and lets him pull her to her feet. Daryl doesn’t let go of her wrist as he leads her into the darkened camp and to her tent. She’s quiet, and it unnerves him.

He has this strange fear that if he leaves her outside of her tent, she’ll just stand there. His own hands shake. Is this the thing that breaks her?

Something in Daryl’s chest twists at the thought.

When he gets her into the tent, she sits down on her sleeping bag like her strings have been cut. He swallows hard and kneels down to take off her boots. There’s blood on her shirt and his fingers tremble as he reaches out and grips the hem. Andrea doesn’t protest, so he slides the shirt up, being careful not to touch her skin.

She raises her arms to help him, then lets them drop when the shirt is off. Daryl balls the shirt up and tosses it into the corner. Her bra is a green as pale as her eyes.

He could touch her he realizes. He could touch her and she wouldn’t object. Wouldn’t say no.

 _C’mon, son, take what you want for once. You a man or what?_ Merle taunts in his head.

Daryl looks away from her pale skin and finds a clean shirt in a neat stack of clothing along the tent wall. He presses the shirt into her hands, and she slides it on, then reaches behind herself to take off her bra.

He looks away again. “I’ll let you get some rest,” he says, but he doesn’t move. He can feel her eyes on him.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea whispers.

Daryl’s eyes snap back to her. “What?”

“I’m sorry you had to...,” her voice trails off, and she wets her lips. “It should have been my job. I should have been there for Dale.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t you eat yourself up over that,” he tells her firmly. “You held his hand. You were there for him.”

Andrea swipes angrily at her eyes. “It shouldn’t have fallen on you.”

Words bottle up in Daryl’s throat. Merle’s laughing at him, and Daryl’s not sure he trusts himself. Instead he puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out the bracelet. He puts it around Andrea’s wrist and starts tying the last bits of leather together so it’s a perfect fit.

 _Gonna ask to go steady? Ain't that sweet,_ Merle mocks. _You think some city breed bitch is gonna want something of yours, boy?_

Andrea’s quiet and still until he’s done tying it on. Then she runs her fingers over it. “It’s beautiful.” She smiles at him even though her face is still wet with tears.

Daryl shrugs and ducks his head. Her smiles makes him want things. Things he doesn’t deserve. “You should rest,” he tells her as he moves towards the tent door. “I’ll get you in the morning.”

“Wait,” Andrea says.

He stops and looks back at her.

Andrea pulls an arrow from a bag and holds it out to him. “Stay,” she asks, holding his gaze. “Just stay, please, I don’t want to be alone.”

He almost runs. He wants to run, but he wants to stay just as much. There wouldn’t be any harm, though, would there? To just lay beside her and guard her sleep?

Daryl takes the arrow from her fingers. He wipes just under her eyes with his thumbs.

He kisses her forehead.

The next morning Rick doesn’t say a word about a fully clothed Andrea sleeping curled up at fully clothed Daryl’s side. Rick just tells him they’re going to bury Dale.

Merle isn’t as silent in Daryl's head.


End file.
